The Last Night

On an almost full moon night
I call for the dog but do not find her.
The deck beckons me and
I step past the maple to look at the moonlight
Drenching the fields and the trees and the gardens
And I remember that it is the last night
In which this house will ever be truly ours.
Tomorrow we sign on the dotted lines
And history shifts for this little white house on the hill.
Tears begin forming for my lifetime of history here.
I certainly have a “right” to my grief
But then I remember the Lord showing me
That I no longer need to feel sad.
So I look back up at the moon
And excitement bubbles up
for soon I will look
upon this same moon
from a city window
On quiet street
In a small town
Surrounded by friends
I don’t yet know.